“That isn’t business, Mr. Bird. I won’t accept any favors in this deal. I come to you same as I would to any broker. I’ll sell you a share in my tip for a ten-per-cent margin on twenty-five shares of L. S. And if you consider the tip worth it, I want you to deal with me same as you would with anyone else.”
“Well, what’s your tip, Jack?” asked the broker, smiling doubtfully.
“Hartz and Bradshaw are getting up a corner to boost L. S.”
“How do you know that?” asked Bird, sharply.
Jack told him what he had overheard the two men say at the capitalist’s office the day before.
Mr. Bird considered a moment.
“I don’t mind admitting that your information is valuable, and I’m going to look into it. If I find from indications that are bound to show themselves in a day or two that a pool has apparently been formed, I’ll stake you for one hundred shares; the tip is worth that easily.”
“All right! Much obliged,” said the boy, joyfully. “That’s business, and my hundred dollars will give me twenty-five shares more. But you must let me use my own judgment about selling out.”
“You’d better let me attend to that, Jack.”
“Thanks; but I’ve got my own idea. I’d like to feel independent in the matter. I’ve been studying the market for some time, and if you can shear me of the little wool I’ve got, you’re welcome to do so.”